


Dance With Me

by zemira



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Learning to Dance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zemira/pseuds/zemira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rakuzan is holding a dance, and Akashi wants nothing more than to go with his precious Kouki, but Kouki declines. For one reason- he can’t dance. So what’s Akashi to do?</p><p>Why, teach him, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts).



“N-no!”

Akashi frowned, his heterochromatic eyes reflecting slight disappointment.

“And why is that?” he sighed, “I came all this way to ask you to come to a dance with me, and you’re declining that quickly?”

Cheeks ablaze, Kouki’s glance absconded to the carpet beneath his feet. It was already embarrassing enough that Akashi had surprised him at home when he wasn’t in the neatest of states. At the time, he’d only just returned from practice, sweaty and thoroughly disheveled, his garb nothing in comparison to the proper get-up his lover was sporting. But now Akashi was occupying his living room, inviting him to a dance Rakuzan would be holding in a few days. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, but there was something vital that was preventing him from accepting the offer.

“Um… Well… you see….” Kouki became aware of the rapt gaze trained upon him, and jolted swiftly into the heart of the matter. “I can’t dance.”  
  
_‘I had to tell him! I don’t want him to think I don’t want to go with him, but I really can’t dance! And next to this guy of all people? He’s probably an expert!’_ He swallowed, staring anxiously at the other boy seated next to him. _‘Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he laughing at me? Maybe I shouldn’t have told him!’_

To his relief, Seijuro delivered a swift response.

“Is that the only reason?” Kouki nodded earnestly. “I see. Then that is nothing but a minor concern.”

‘ _A minor concern? He really has no idea how bad I can dance! Even Kagami dances better than I do!_ ’

Akashi abruptly rose from his seat, addling the boy even further as he strode toward the stereo at the far end of the room. He paused before it, fiddling with the dials until he was satisfied by what was produced from the speakers. Peering back over at the frozen Kouki, he smiled assuredly before extending his hand.

“Discard your doubts. I will teach you.”

Submersed in a trance, Furihata rose almost mechanically. He glided toward the charismatic invitation, swallowing his pulse when it began to interject with its accelerated tempo.

“Akashi-san, it’s hopeless. I really am terrible. Even someone like you won’t be able to teach me!”

“You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much, Kouki.” He inched a step closer. “Take my hand, and I’ll show you that you’re not as terrible as you think.”

Furihata’s palm was then claimed, and his eyes met the cause’s dichromatic stare.

“To begin with, simply listen to the music, and move to suit the beat of the song.”

He glanced at their linked hands and then back down at his own shoes.

“But, Akashi-san, I don’t even know which beat goes with what movement.”

“That’s for you to decide, Kouki.”

Clasping onto his hand, Akashi pulled him forward, inflicting a surprised gasp. Yet, before Kouki could question the unexpected motion, he was slightly pushed back, their hands still interlocked.

“See how simple that was?”

‘ _Simple? What was? I don’t even know what he did!’_

Akashi paused in his movements. “Kouki? Did you hear what I said?”

The sudden question ripped him from his inner musings. Caught off guard, he replied, “Ah, yes, yes! I heard you. Is that all there is to this dance?”

A low chuckle followed his stammered response.

“Silly Kouki. This is only the beginning.”

A bit puzzled, Furihata had barely a moment to react before he was guided toward Akashi once again. He stepped forward, his fingers still encased in the warmth of his hand, and soon realized he was moving without Akashi’s guidance.

“See? You’re getting it. Now, let’s proceed onto the next step. It’s necessary to move all of your body when you dance, not only just your feet. Your arms are also essential.”

His palms then swept up Kouki’s forearms, gripping onto either one and guiding them upward. Seijuro paused when they were resting at the level of his shoulders, and then helped sway his limbs back and forth that matched the direction he’d been moving his lower half previously. Kouki did his best to memorize the movements, but his mind was honestly in a tailspin right now. Could he remember these steps when he was on the dance floor for real? The whole routine, without messing any of it up? Because he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was coming next in the lesson plan.

“There,” Seijuro announced, as if the matter was unequivocally settled. Kouki, on the other hand, couldn’t say he mirrored the other teen’s confidence in his fledgling dance ability. “Now all that’s left is you to combine them, to use your entire body in accord with the music.”

“C-combine them?”

“Exactly how it sounds. Use the steps I showed you before and then slowly add in the movements of your arms a few seconds after.”

Reluctant but determined, Kouki glided anteriorly before retracting his steps. Once he had a handle on the first movements, he raised his hands, attempting to mimic the ones Akashi had recently showed him. He then breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his confidence foster at knowing he was slowly grasping the steps.

Perhaps a bit too confident.

The next step in, the toe of his shoe captured a chunk of the carpet beneath his wobbly posture. Furihata yelped, his frame plummeting as his balance vanished and he hurtled forward.

But rather than encountering the carpet, he realized he had toppled into something much sturdier, and remarkably warm. Raising himself marginally, Kouki discovered an exquisite gray material beneath his palms. His eyes dilated, and the tips of his ears reddened when he finally understood where precisely he had landed, or more accurately, whom he had landed on.

_Thump, thump, thump._

_‘Be quiet, heart! Don’t let him hear you! Shut up!’_

Quelling the nuisance was impossible, and rather than restoring its customary rhythm, it only spurred on the moment he was enchained in that fervency. Secured in Akashi’s arms, Furihata staggered backwards until he was once more at plenary height, his fingers still anchored to the gray cuffs of the boy’s suit.

“Kouki.” Akashi’s tone was of one of unease. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” he assured a bit too hastily for his liking, “Er, I’m sorry about that, Akashi-san. I told you I was terrible at this.”

Seijuro seemed unfazed by his apology, choosing to concentrate on his previous inquiry.

“If you are truly fine,” he spoke, lightly tapping two fingers to the pulsating area above his heart, “then what is this here?”

“Well, I did almost just trip,” He offered lamely, doing his best to ignore their close proximity.

 Despite his intimidating exterior, Akashi had a penchant for being touchy-feely when they were in private. Kouki didn’t mind it too much because contact seemed to help his lover to relax, but he’d be lying if he denied enjoying it more than he should for something so simple.

“I suppose that’s understandable. But you needn’t worry. I have no intention of allowing you to be harmed.”

“Especially not before this dance, right?” Kouki interjected, trying to lighten the mood – and help to better cover his treacherous pulse’s true origins.

“No, ever.”

The stark answer jarred him once more, his eyes blowing wide with surprise. How exactly did you answer a sentiment like that?

As he was ruminating on that concern, their agenda shifted. Seijuro released his hand to stride over to the stereo a second time, manipulating the various stations until he was satisfied. A lower melody than the music they had just been practicing to, emanated from the speakers, and imbued a calmer mood than the one preceding it.

“Regardless, I want to teach you another dance, Kouki. These steps should be much simpler for you. All you’ll need to do is follow my lead.”

Furihata nodded, walking toward him until they stood a few inches apart.

“Come closer to me. This one involves us being as close as possible.”

He faltered. “Eh?! How close?”

Perhaps the most suitable of responses would have been to follow through instead of to question, for when a strong arm encircled his waist, Kouki was taken aback. Akashi tugged him forward gently until there was scarcely space left between them. His other hand then occupied Kouki’s right one.

“This close, Kouki.”

Whether by sheer intuition, or that he too wished to remedy the gap separating them, Furihata’s movements were nomadic, his second hand settling on one of Akashi’s broad shoulders. He suspected the serene pitch of the music was the culprit for his willingness, or the fact he no longer had to stumble around like an idiot on his own, but perhaps it was some other reason entirely. Either way, Kouki couldn’t help but feel a bit more at ease in their new pose.

Nonetheless, when the lyrics began to flow through the speakers, his heart gained other intentions in mind and once more began to beat rapidly.

“Erm, Akashi-san?” His gaze drifted to the side - anything to evade the mismatched eyes boring into him. “Aren’t these lyrics a bit too….”

 “Truthful?” he interrupted with a soft grin, “Yes, Kouki, I do believe they are.”

“T-that’s not what I was going to say! They, er….”

Any reluctance subsided when he noticed he had unexpectedly begun to sway, Seijuro’s arm still loosely fixed around his midriff. Kouki’s eyes rose, only to become entangled with the hooded, dichromatic stare, his mien flushed once more. Resistance was nugatory at this point, and the other’s embrace was far too thermal to evade any longer. Still a bit hesitant, Kouki’s head slowly settled on Akashi’s shoulder, his eyes shifting sideways to avoid any more humiliation.

Languidly, they traced circles across the living room floor, conversation dying down in favor of allowing the music to pierce them through. Furihata found himself increasingly tranquil, the pace and ease of this routine giving him hope that he wouldn’t be a complete failure at the dance a few days from now. Slipping into a lesser state of awareness, Kouki was unaware of his head sliding from its current position to glide down Akashi’s torso until it came to rest against the area where his heart lay.

There he uncovered the Akashi's soothing pulse; the cadence of it created an enticing lullaby against his ear. His eyes felt weighted down and his body tumbled into a static state as he permitted the melody to lure him asleep.

Akashi noticed the inactiveness, though he continued to sway.

 “Kouki.”

“Mhmm?” he mumbled sleepily.

Blinking rapidly to dispel the drowsiness, Furihata registered a hand cupping his jaw, guiding it upward so that he was once more locking eyes with his lover. Without any warning, without any semblance of why, Akashi leaned in and touched his lips gently against Kouki’s. It was a fleeting kiss, but that innocent graze shocked him into vitality, his willful pulse duplicating its earlier, lively performance.

He wanted to protest the loss of contact, but instead settled on encircling both his arms around Akashi’s neck. Kouki let out a dreamy gust of air, his cheek briefly brushing against the warm skin gracing the borders, before he returned to burrowing his face in the crook of the other boy’s shoulder. He grazed the crimson locks that hung low enough for him to grasp, enjoying the silky tresses becoming lost in between his curious fingers.

They continued in that vein past a change in songs, perfecting their movements as one entity. The more Furihata was allowed to ruminate on what he was feeling, the more his thoughts turned toward a single, embarrassing conclusion. Dancing had proved less intimidating than he’d expected, and had instead inspired a new closeness between the two of them. His anxious nature wouldn’t permit him to state his desires fully, but all he could do was try to hope his attempt at communicating them would translate.

Retreating from his hiding place, Kouki simultaneously put a halt to their motion and ensnared the taller teen’s gaze with his own.

“Sei,” he wistfully delivered, directing his stare as meaningfully as he could.

A spark burned bright in Seijuro’s eyes as he returned the gesture; a spark that both stoked Kouki’s own mood further, and took him aback with its intensity. This time when their lips met, it was nothing like the first time. Akashi’s mouth angled hard against his, and the hand steadying his waist crushed him unfathomably closer. He sank into the kiss readily, delighting in the sense that they weren’t about to part from it any time soon.

As much as he wanted to indulge in the torridity, Kouki knew their current location was more than inappropriate. He weakly nudged their connection apart, peering up at the heated, yet bewildered mismatched eyes.

“Not here, Sei.”

 

* * *

 

Kouki’s room was in disarray, a far cry from his counterpart’s spotless quarters in Kyoto. Had he not been so preoccupied with delving into his mouth, Akashi would have scolded him for the clutter they stumbled over on their journey behind closed doors. Despite his disapproval though, he opted for adding his suit jacket to the mess, discarding it almost instantly upon their arrival.

Succeeding over the piles of detritus, Akashi guided him toward the bed, their lips locked and tongues still probing. A bit reluctant about breaking the connection, he pulled away, gently depositing the smaller frame onto the mattress. Dazed, Kouki peered up curiously in time to see Seijuro loosening his black tie, allowing the material to remain suspended. He swallowed thickly, hooded gaze centered on the libidinous grin that had suddenly materialized.

“Kouki.”

His tone was silky, unadulterated fervor embedded within as the name rolled off his tongue in the form of a hymn. Ridding himself of his tie altogether, his nimble fingers skimmed the buttons of his formal attire, leisurely undoing each one, his heterochromatic gaze meshing with the vehement one below.

A bit too slow for Kouki’s taste, Akashi leaned forward, pausing to shove the many books occupying the bed off and onto the floor below. They had been left behind by Kouki during one of his routine attempts to manage his vast collection, and frankly Kouki was more than embarrassed to have his lack of cleanliness exposed. He flushed a faint coral, reluctantly turning his gaze back on the voracious male hovering above him.

But at the invigorating sight of the other’s broadening grin, all shame receded. Furihata trembled from his position, his gaze focused on the gaping fabric that swayed with Akashi’s movements and allowed him to snag a glimpse at the canvas of pale skin hidden beneath.

Akashi’s gaze roamed, hands reaching to steady the boy’s jaw before leaning down to plant a chaste kiss upon it. Disapproving of the slow torment he was being subjected to, Kouki whined softly, arms reaching for the crimson mane above. Compared to how zealous he had acted out in the living room, Akashi was moving at a snail’s pace presently, trying his patience and leaving him at his wit’s end.

He needed more.

Fortunate for him, Akashi was intuitive when it came to detecting his emotions, and therefore finally decided to give him what he’d been pining for. Either that, or Akashi’s tolerance itself had expired. His face was framed within a firm grip, Seijuro’s tongue tracing the moist walls of his mouth before entwining with his own. Kouki moaned softly, the pleasurable sound muffled by the probing of the other’s robust tongue. The weight of Akashi was welcome, the other’s frame sheltering him where they lay. Resting there, it felt as though no harm could ever come to him. An errant thought, but one that further fanned the heat of his desire.

He had just begun to reciprocate as fervidly as the other when Akashi separated their connection. Kouki wanted to protest, but any urge to was stifled at the pleasant gust of air wafting against his ear. Akashi’s head moved about languidly, as though he was searching for some spot in particular.

Akashi’s lips then once more unleashed havoc, the silkiness of them now caressing the borders of his neck. Teeth latched onto a tender patch of flesh, biting down gently and stirring his skin. Unbidden, Furihata eked out a small groan, fingers anchoring in the Seijuro's hair. The suckling at his neck was so small a sensation, but it was veritably driving him wild. More than ever, he felt like cursing their sluggish pace, if only it didn’t feel this erotic.

Satisfied with his work, Seijuro retreated from his post, only to induce another tongue wrestle. One hand remained cupping the boy’s chin while the other began to trail south, never ceasing until it reached the waistband of Kouki’s practice uniform. Akashi laughed softly into the kiss, relishing when the other began to wriggle from the sudden assault.

His fingers skimmed the material before slipping inside, discovering what he had been searching for all along. In response, Kouki moaned, tongue still entwined with Akashi’s and hands still rooted in his crimson locks. Akashi’s movements were once more agonizing, fingers curling around the base of his erection before gliding back up to tease the swollen crown.

He was relentless, devouring his mouth while his hand continued to ravage his cock. From his pinned location, Kouki squirmed, eager to indulge in the pressure that was taunting one of his most vulnerable spots, but Akashi would have none of it. The pad of his thumb swept against the bubbling slit, gliding almost callously in a swift pattern.

"Seijuro!" Kouki had surprisingly been the one to divide their connection. "Ha...haaa..."

At the calling of his first name, the same fiendish grin resurfaced.

"If I had known dancing with you caused this reaction, my precious Kouki, I would have done this quite a long time ago."

“Sh-shut up!” He grit his teeth at the increasing pressure. “That’s not the reason!”

His hand only resumed its leisurely pace.

“Oh?” He chuckled huskily against the reddened ear. “Then what is it?”

Akashi frowned, displeased by the lack of a forthcoming response, pulling back to peer speculatively over at the silent boy. Kouki’s eyes were lidded, cheeks ablaze and head hefted to the side. He didn’t wish to grant him a proper response? If possible, Seijuro’s grin magnified.

There were ways around that.

The hand that had been toying with his cock withdrew until it once more lingered on the waistband of Kouki’s practice uniform. For a moment Akashi was inert, as if contemplating his next course of action, and then before Furihata could react, he had somehow managed to shed every article of clothing adorning him.

Furihata gaped up in approval as the other began unloosing his own belt, giving rise to a dark pair of briefs that left little to the imagination as far as Seijuro’s titillated state. Kouki’s pulse accelerated as his eyes roamed his toned abdomen and legs. Slowly, and with a growing fluttering in his stomach, he raised his gaze to once more link with his lover’s.

But instead of granting him what he had been yearning for, Akashi merely lowered himself until his still concealed member was aligned perfectly with Kouki’s disrobed one. And then deliberately, with that same irritating smirk decorating his handsome features, he began to coast his hips, struggling not to hiss at the wonderful friction he was creating between them.

One glance at Kouki’s clenched semblance and he was positively elated.

“Do you feel that, Kouki?” he purred, “Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Ha…uhmm…mmm ha….”

Akashi leaned in, maintaining the same tempo.

“You never answered my previous question.” He abraded their hips, becoming irritated at how he himself had prolonged this. “Don’t you want to tell me what really caused you to react that way when we were outside in the living room?”

Kouki balled the sheets up within his fists, chewing anxiously at his bottom lip.

“Because, Akashi-san-!” he suddenly blurted, causing the other to raise an eyebrow.

He’d be lying to himself if he said their foreplay wasn’t generating an accelerated reaction. Akashi ground them together, gauging Kouki’s flushed expression. With that data alone, he knew he was about to become undone. The boy was far too adorable for his own good, and his reserve was wearing thin.

“What was that?” he pressed, “You have to speak a little more clearly, Kouki. I couldn’t understand what you said.”

Furihata only managed to scurry deeper into the sheets, using the flimsy material to conceal his flustered state. Not about to accept such a defiant response, Akashi ceased all movement to lean forward and cup his chin gently.

“Kouki.”

“Because,” he mumbled, “I-it was with Akashi-san….”

The diabolical grin vanished, substituted for a doting sort of smile.

“Good answer,” Akashi praised and sealed the gap between their lips.

Caught up again in assaulting Kouki's mouth, Seijuro’s hand fumbled in the drawer of the nightstand beside them. His golden eye snapped open when he realized he wasn’t uncovering the item he had been searching for. Akashi grimaced, disconnecting before glancing at Kouki with a bewildered, heterochromatic gaze.

At the implied inquiry, Furihata flushed a vivid shade of coral. As things stood, he didn’t have a hope of escaping the truth, and the longer he stalled, even to save face, the longer it would take for them to progress. No, he didn’t really have any other option but to confess.

“It’s… all gone, already,” he confessed weakly, trying to stomp down the rush of embarrassment that rose to the surface. “Since the last time we were together…”

“It hasn’t been that long of a separation,” the one guiding him interjected matter-of-factly.

He didn’t think he could be any more mortified, but Seijuro’s tone had proved him wrong. Kouki lowered his eyes, refusing to meet the one who still hovered above him. How could he respond to that? The last he had seen Akashi was over two weeks ago, and the only distraction he had was practice and occasionally having an outing with his teammates. What other distraction did he have to temporarily forget about him? Akashi on the other hand was always busy, whether it was with basketball or his other obligations, so of course there was a vast difference between their experiences during their brief separations.

Despite the humiliation, Kouki was more than determined to defend himself.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, “You’re always busy, so of course it’s easier for you. I only spend a few hours away from home, not counting school itself. So of course when I’m not distracted, I get really lonely and then all I think about is you. You wouldn’t understand because you probably have too much to do to feel how I-”

His ramble was curtailed by the crushing of his mouth against the other’s.

“Don’t ever say that again.” Akashi’s tone was firm, but there appeared to be a slight waver to it. “You’re always on my mind, Kouki. There is never a day, never a single second that I don’t think about you.”

Akashi then tugged him forward, lifting him until he was cradled within his embrace.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, my Kouki.” He stroked the dark tresses, hoping to somehow pacify the trembling boy. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

Despite how callous he may have appeared at times, Akashi did have his moments where he would admit he had been in the wrong, only for him that was. Kouki couldn’t see him behaving this way toward anyone else aside from him. Perhaps that was a sort of privilege he gained when he decided to become Akashi’s lover. Nuzzling into the warmth, Kouki trilled out a ghost of a sigh, desiring even more to reaffirm their connection.

“I can be rash at times,” Akashi continued with a low chuckle, “So that little discovery only made it worse.”

Kouki raised his head enough to glare in return; at least that’s what he assumed he was doing.

“You were the one who kept teasing me! So don’t go and blame this on me.”

Seijuro bestowed a light kiss to his forehead, igniting Kouki’s ardor even further.

“Do you have any lotion in the house? That may be a suitable substitute for the time being.”

If possible, Kouki’s expression became even redder. 

“I have a better idea,” he whispered, avoiding the surprised glance from behind, “We could always….”

 

* * *

 

For Akashi Seijuro, being wrong was unimaginable. He knew of everyone, of everything, so there was never a time he would state he had been incorrect. However, with his shy lover resting below him, cock wedged between his lips and tongue languidly bathing his swollen crown, he had to re-evaluate his theory. Kouki was known for his reticent, timid nature, but there were occasions his actions took Akashi himself by surprise.

He adjusted his weight carefully, assuring himself he wasn’t putting too much stress on his lover’s torso. Both legs rested on either side of Kouki’s head, his heated gaze trained down at the boy who determinedly continued to suck at him, eyes closed and cheeks a contradictory shade of red.

Kouki, on the other hand continued to mentally scold himself. How could he suggest something so embarrassing? He could have easily scoured the bathroom for a bottle of lotion, as there was plenty, but the notion of separating from Akashi’s embrace after he had spoken so tenderly was inconceivable. His mind could only produce one response which was delivered through his words.

One extremely humiliating response.

Akashi didn’t seem to mind, though, not in the least.

Although his actions may have been a bit sloppy and completely lacking skill, Seijuro couldn’t prevent the slight flutters in his lower belly. The expression on the other boy’s face, the strong determination, his eyes closed in concentration was just in a sense of perfection. As much as he wanted to relish in the sensation of this sacred moment, he had decided they had prolonged the main event for far too long.

“Kouki.” Akashi’s tone was a bit heavier than usual. “That’s enough.”

He tried not to grimace when said boy separated from him. A thin strand of saliva dangled from his parted lips and remained connected to his swollen tip. If anything, the sight only seemed to harden him more. Akashi leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to the side of Kouki's mouth, and then without any warning, flipped them over to where Kouki was perched above him.

His expression couldn’t have been more priceless.

“W-what? A-Akashi-san, what are you doing? I’m supposed to be… I mean….”

Furihata’s eyes were magnified, features stained scarlet and hands waving frantically back and forth to protest his new location. In turn, Akashi only grinned, sinking back against the pillows to capture a wider view of his flustered and bewildered lover.

“Why not?” he purred, “You were doing so well by yourself, I figured you wanted to continue.”

“But that, that was-!”

“Guide me, Kouki,” he spoke huskily, “I’ve been guiding you all evening, now it’s time for you to do the same for me.”

Kouki sulked. His lover had to be playing a cruel joke. There had been only a few times Akashi had placed him in this position, and he had always been right there to direct him. He peered below, swallowing thickly when he realized both Akashi’s arms lay static at his side. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to commence this without some sort of assistance.

Despite his lack of confidence, however, Kouki knew what he ultimately desired.

Bit by bit he shifted, his palm aligning against Seijuro’s thigh. He tucked his chin in, refusing to meet the rapt gaze only a few paces away, and elevated himself, placing most of his weight on the hand that lay flat. Kouki shivered, briefly colliding with the swollen crown below; it almost seemed it would be an impossible fit. Granted, he knew that was his anxiety speaking, and not the actual truth. As though he hadn’t humiliated himself enough, he slid one hand under his leg, gaping himself as much as possible before sinking down.

He paused in his descent when an audible groan echoed in the air.

“When I said guide me, I meant to mount me yourself. Not give me a show. Who’s the one teasing now, Kouki?”

“Sh-shut up, it’s not like I’m trying to do that!”

“Don’t misread me, I’m rather enjoying the view. Please, do continue.”

The other’s mismatched stare briefly gleamed, causing Kouki’s pulse to skyrocket. At once he both mistrusted and reveled in that single impish expression.

Veiling his own gaze, and nibbling on his bottom lip in concentration, Kouki lowered himself, willing his senses to relax the best they could. Like a ghost sensation, he imagined Seijuro’s palms setting his pace, helping him to ease down in a way that was best for them both, caressing along his sides during the act, or stroking him into oblivion as they both reached their peak. Truth be told, those simple touches had always enhanced everything for him, allowing him to viscerally feel his lover reaching out to him, giving him the comfort that they really were as one.

A faint moan departed from him when he finally succeeded in sealing their gap. He lifted his gaze, chancing a glance at his lover before recognizing he had been staring at him the entire time. Kouki shifted, earning himself a slight hiss from below, and then peered around, deliberating on his new course of action.

With a quiet sigh, Kouki elevated himself, rising to a height he was comfortable with being then gliding back down. He tried not to cry out when the tip brushed against his silky walls, but the imp beneath him decided to abruptly shift his hips and torment him further. A hot spark of pleasure slithered up his spine, causing the boy to slow in his motions – he couldn’t stop, not in this state. Bestowing his lover with what he believed was an irritated glare, Kouki’s narrowed gaze directed to the lambent grin below.

“Y-you said I was going to guide you!” he eked out, his voice wavering as the rising cadence of his breaths interfered.

“You are.” The smirk twisting Seijuro’s mouth barely faltered. “That was simply a reflex.”

Renouncing the urge to object, Furihata returned to the task at hand. After a moment of willing his easiness aside, he settled on a pace that was comfortable to him. As his hips rocked against the thickness lodged inside him, he raised a hand, using it as a shield to mask any shameful noises that may have expelled forward. He maintained his pace, the tip of his nose bumping into his fist, face scrunched and eyes sealed.

Slender fingers then curled around his tightly closed fist, Akashi gently pulling him from his shelter. He then shook his head in disapproval, placing a light kiss against Kouki’s palm. In response, Kouki latched onto his hand, clenching at it as Akashi moved gracefully throughout him. His cheek rested against the smooth skin, neck descending as he once more attempted to conceal his gaze.

“Kouki.” Akashi’s breathy tone only heightened his nerves. “Look at me.”

But he stubbornly ignored the direction, his clammy fingers continuing to squeeze Akashi’s hand. As though they refused to abandon the lush sensation, his hips moved by their own accord, Akashi smoothly sliding out of him before plunging back in by the tempo Kouki had settled on. And as much as he wished to stop to spare himself any more humiliation, he only continued, locked in the same mesmerizing cycle.

Again his name was called, and again he declined the request.

By the third time, he obliged, tilting his head to shyly greet the mismatched gaze that had been focusing on him all along. Kouki’s eyes were hooded, puffs of air expelling as his lips parted to voice what he had been trying to since he became lost in their union.

“A-Akashi-san,” he practically gasped, “S-stop!”

The other only raised a dark eyebrow. “Stop? You’re the one who’s doing all the moving, Kouki.”

He panted, willing his hips to cease any more movement, but it was futile. Kouki tried not to blush at the heaviness laced within his lover’s tone and instead concentrated, as best as he could, on what he wanted to impart.

“Haaa… I’m trying to, but I can’t. It…” A red hue spread across the skin below his eyes. “… feels too good.”

Given his poor choice of words, Furihata anticipated another teasing reply. So it was a complete surprise when suddenly he was thrown from his placement and back onto the bed, his stomach pressed into the mattress and face embedded into the silkiness of the pillows beneath. A bit frightened by the unexpected action, he raised his head in time to sense Akashi hovering over him, his chest pressing into the smaller teen’s back.

“You’ll regret saying those words,” he purred, pausing to flick his tongue against the shell of his ear. “Prepare yourself, Kouki.”

Deviously, his hands roamed the lean frame, caressing over trembling thighs and bowed back, building Kouki’s anticipation higher. He could feel the warmth of Akashi’s cock pressing into his thigh, tip slick with pre-fluid and the entire length still rock hard. With every moment he delayed, Kouki’s pulse rose higher, and his body felt starkly empty, lacking that which he most desired. Shifting his head to the side on the pillow, he peered back as much as his limited view would allow him, sending a pleading look his lover’s direction.

Just as he was about to speak up though, his open mouth twisted into a sudden gasp, a rush of poignant sensation surging throughout his lower half. Once more he was gapped wide, Akashi’s length spearing into him with a new semblance of force. Kouki struggled to catch his breath, soon panting into the pillow’s shelter and feeling the familiar heat envelop his center, his insides beginning to throb with mounting ecstasy.

“S-Seijuro!”

Although he knew the calling of his first name was immensely satisfying to Akashi, he hadn’t expected the other’s response. His hands clutched at the edge of the mattress, barely holding on as Akashi unleashed his pent up frustration in him, his powerful thrusts slowly angling toward the one place that he knew would twist Kouki into a boneless heap.

“Ha…. Haaaa!”

Tears sprung from his eyes, his nails digging into the bedding. Though Akashi knew the precise movements and how to bring him the deepest of pleasure, the lubrication they had decided on had long since expired, and now was delivering an ache that was anything but painless. Still, Kouki weathered on, not wanting to escape from a sensation he hadn’t felt in over two weeks.

But as always, Akashi had a way of knowing all, and slowly diminished his velocity. He leaned forward, gently pressing on until he had managed to rest his head on the other’s shoulder. His fingers skimmed the moist skin, swiping at the tears that had begun to cascade down Kouki’s cheeks.

“Is it too much?” he questioned softly.

Reluctantly, Kouki bobbed his head, indicating his reply. It wasn’t like he could really lie about it at this point if Akashi had already guessed.

Seijuro’s head then lifted from his shoulder, and he began to retreat, pulling gingerly out from his locked position. Jolted into full awareness, Kouki reached back to grab onto whatever part of the other he could.

 “You don’t have to stop. It… It’s not that bad. Please.”

There was a pointed silence for a few moments, Akashi seeming to weigh the situation. After his deliberation, his next order was simple, and just as quietly rendered.

With gentle guidance, he eased Kouki onto his side, falling in behind him and wrapping an arm around his midsection. His hand gradually slid downward, stroking over his own cock and spreading what fluid had bubbled from the tip around, coating as much of himself as possible. Allowing his pulse to settle, Furihata waited, grateful for the brief respite in between.

Seconds rolled on, and after both were in a tranquil state, he felt that same pressure bump against his loosened hole before sliding slowly inside once more.

The chorus of his wispy moans was met by soothing lips kissing the crook of his neck, Akashi’s mouth determined to ease him further.

“Is that better?” he murmured, his lips still toying with the tender skin.

Kouki nodded slowly, becoming aware at how they remained inactive for the time being. He then laughed softly about the ruthless action that had caused this all in the first place.

“I guess that wasn’t one of my better ideas, huh?”

“You were impatient,” the other chuckled in return, “As was I. It’s been far too long, my Kouki.”

To relish in the lull of Akashi’s warm embrace was undeniably what Furihata desired, but something prevented that. He wiggled minutely, eliciting a sharp intake of air from behind as Akashi continued to pulse within him. Though he was keeping miraculously still, Kouki could tell his lover was having a difficult time in restraining himself.

“Sei.” He flushed at his impending words. “Y-you can move now….”

Kouki detected a swift breath of relief from behind. He felt Akashi shift slightly, the pads of his fingers skimming his hips before one settled against them. The pace was nothing compared to the previous, stilted and careful; a bit too slow for Kouki’s preference.

“Y-you.” He struggled to string together the sentence. “You can go a bit faster. I-I liked the pace from before. I’m fine now, so it’s okay.”

Seijuro paused all together, his spare hand reaching to tap two fingers against the other boy’s lips.

“You need to stop with these promiscuous statements, Kouki. It’s only going to cause more trouble for you with how much they keep stirring me.”

With that promise, Akashi’s hips jerked upwards, slamming in deep. Kouki's eyes squeezed shut, and he felt like sighing in relief at the powerful movements he was graced with. Wriggling back what little he could, he tried to abet the swing of the other’s hips, impaling himself with flourish. Frissons of pleasure simmered within him as their joining grew more voracious, adding to Kouki’s hysteria. Both of Akashi’s hands gripped him firmly, limiting how much he could squirm. He was grateful for that, because the less he moved, the more intensely each thrust reverberated through him.

Engulfed in a haze, Kouki was unaware of one of Seijuro’s hands relocating from his hip and descending. He then cried out, trying not to jolt straight into the trap when Akashi’s hand clasped around his leaking member, the pad of his thumb agilely kneading the bubbling slit. Akashi then deviated, his direction angling more toward the right and producing another band of guttural sounds.

“Akashi-san…uhhmmnn…haaa…!”

“You don’t have to hold back.” Seijuro’s tone was raspy. “Come for me, Kouki.”

The carnality interlaced within Akashi’s voice was his undoing. Howling his lover’s name, Kouki tumbled forward, the hand on his cock still stroking him fiercely. Through his peak, he vaguely listened as Akashi followed suit, grunting softly in his ear. He became aware of the warmth filling him, only heightening the experience he was undergoing.

Once the explosion of lights diminished and his heart rate gradually returned to its usual tempo, Kouki sluggishly leaned back, detecting his lover was beginning to calm as well. Akashi raised his head, settling it between the bow of the other’s neck before he began to slowly retreat from their joining. Kouki whined softly at the loss of heat, but was easily satisfied when he was pulled snugly into the other’s embrace.

For a spell, they lingered in silence, bodies entwined and nothing but the chorus of settling breaths to accompany them. A slight ache pulsed to his hip and tugged Kouki back into awareness. As satisfied as he felt now, he had a suspicion their vigorous motions would leave a lasting effect.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to dance well after that,” he laughed nervously, “I’m going to need a bit to recover.”

Akashi chuckled lowly, planting a light kiss on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “You have plenty of time to rest for tomorrow night.”

Kouki faltered, nearly tumbling from the bed.

“Eh?! It’s tomorrow?!”

 

**~FIN**

**Extra:**

 

“Sei-chan!” a voice called, “Sei-chan!”

Akashi turned around, encountering the curious turquoise eyes.

“Yes, Reo? What is it?”

Mibuchi scratched the back of his head. “Ah, I was just wondering why you’re carrying that guy around.”

 Glancing at said boy in his arms, Akashi shrugged. “My date had a bit too much practice.” He ignored the sputtering that followed behind. “I was teaching him a new dance that left him a bit sore."

Furihata’s eyes widened, his entire demeanor resembling a tomato.

“A-Akashi-san!”


End file.
